The Legendary Ginevra Weasley
by Mandy2
Summary: AU: A legend at 16, Ginevra Lestrange is a dangerously intriguing Slytherin with mysterious family circumstances. Harry Potter's investigation plants seeds of doubt in the fatal beauty's mind, which puts the entire war in jeopardy... but for which side?
1. Intrigue

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

**_Intrigue_**

* * *

She was hardly the matriarch of the family yet, but the head of the household at 12 Grimmauld Place was in charge of the tapestry that hung in the drawing room of the London residence. She stood before it, her face aged prematurely with the trials and tribulations her two grown sons had put her through. The noise of children attempting to contain their noise production floated from the kitchen, a familiar enough sound in the house. Walburga was not one to give into any stirring in the blood-pumping organ buried deep within her chest, but it was a pleasant feeling, she thought, to have children running through 12 Grimmauld Place again, even if they were children of blood traitors.

Her second cousin Cedrella Weasley was missing from the tapestry, for she had been fool enough to marry the eldest of the Weasley boys and had in effect rendered herself a blood traitor. But now she was here, aged at an even faster rate than Walburga had, having come to her senses at last.

Cedrella's niece and nephews were arranged primly in the kitchen, itching in their formal clothes and holding back the sobs of childhood. Walburga simpered, pleased that her house still intimidated the innocuous. She had moved to the doorway of the kitchen, watching the eldest try to keep the youngest quiet, the twins entertained by another brother, and the other two paired off miserably.

"Certainly an efficient operation you have here." Walburga drawled, and Cedrella rolled her eyes.

"This isn't the time for petty politics, Walburga. Like it or not, these children are bound to the custody of the House of Black." Cedrella retorted, trying to hold her head high.

Walburga flashed a thin smile. "You certainly can't expect any member of this distinguished family to take on such a great lot of blood traitors."

Cedrella smirked in return, and Walburga took note of this seemingly genetic facial expression. "Given the losses this great family has suffered, I would think, Walburga, that the custody of purely-bred children, all at a malleable ages, would be a high commodity."

Walburga's lips pursed in delight. "Do you really expect me to believe those two boys there won't have heard and believed the fatal political choices of their foolhardy parents?"

Cedrella was not stumped, but she seceded to this point. "I'm already burned off the tapestry, so I'll take them. Septemus and I can handle older children, anyhow."

Walburga quirked an eyebrow. She had to admit, the Black family had lost many of its valuable younger members, and the remaining five blood traitors could, with the proper upbringing, revitalize the strongest family in the wizarding world.

Coldly, Walburga led Cedrella to the tapestry. "Barty, Jr. just inherited his father's fortune, and married that barren Burke girl. They could use a couple of sons."

Cedrella smiled sinisterly. "Percival is 5, and Ronald is 18 months."

Walburga nodded curtly. "And as I'm sure you know, Augusta Longbottom has foolishly lost all of her own family and still firmly believes in the maintenance of pure blood, so I'm sure she can handle those twins. In fact, I'm confident she would appreciate some redemption after raising a son like that."

Cedrella nodded, understanding Augusta's situation. Augusta had married into a good family, as had Cedrella. They were both clever enough to know better, and know where their loyalties should ultimately lie, but they were also raised to be servants to their husbands. Giving these children to Walburga was Cedrella's redemption; Augusta's adoption of the three-year-old twins would be hers.

A wail erupted from the kitchen, and the two women could hear the eldest boy try and soothe her. Walburga's face lit up. She'd forgotten about Cedrella's niece, and visions filled her head of the debuts of her own nieces, Bellatrix and Narcissa, both of whom had made very profitable and powerful marriages.

Those two girls were the only ones left with the means and the politics to take on the last of the Weasleys, and Walburga knew better than to put the girl in the Malfoy house with an eligible husband and raise them as siblings. But Bellatrix was thus far childless, and if her fervent support of the Dark Lord was any indication, she may continue to be. For now, Walburga would accept that and use it to force Bellatrix into adopting the girl in the kitchen. Trix was stubborn, and her only trace of family loyalty was devoted to the maintenance of purity, and Walburga would use that.

For now anyway. Walburga expected more heirs from Trix. They could use her strident belief in the cause.

It was settled in under a week. The eldest two remained Weasleys. Percival and Ronald became members of the Crouch family, and the twins became the wards of the Longbottom family. The girl; however, was the shining jewel of the exchange. Even Bellatrix looked happy with the arrangement, stroking the tiny blood-red curls of her new daughter, casting a charm for them to always stay that way, and so, the legend of Ginevra Lestrange began.

* * *

On the afternoon of the first of September in the ninety-seventh year of the nineteenth century, the sole debutante of the noble house of Black found herself in Compartment C of the Hogwarts Express, headed to Scotland. The other occupants of the compartment were rambling on about their upbringing, much to their facilitator's delight. The last heiress of the house of Black; however, did not find this to be a subject she could particularly contribute to.

Of course, Ginevra Lestrange was considered by others to have one of the most fascinating childhoods in the wizarding world. Her fellow Slug Club member Blaise Zabini had just said that to the curious Melinda Bobbin, in an effort to divert her attention from his own glamorously empty background.

Ginevra was raised the only daughter and eldest child of the Lestrange's, and had been her mother's special project in the years Bellatrix had been housebound. Bellatrix had also brought two sons into the world, Abraxas and Altair, but they were the pet projects of Rodulphus. There seemed to be a few clear things that brought her mother joy: purity, beauty, family, and the maintenance of all three in her daughter.

When the conversation turned to the distracted Slytherin sixth year, she managed, with her wonderful ability to candy coat and conceal, to say that she had been raised traditionally and apart from her brothers, though she loved them very much.

Her cousin Draco smirked at her response, until he'd been asked to share his own home life.

Bellatrix had devoted much of Ginevra's earliest years to instilling in her scion the importance of beauty and lineage. "You're a Black, my dear, and you must look it."

This wisdom had been engrained in Ginevra's mind, for it had been repeated to her on many occasions, and was usually the answer to any otherwise unfathomable event Ginevra remembered. Why had she constantly spent time in the Tugwood wing of the fourth floor at St. Mungo's? "You're a Black, my dear, and you must look it." Why did she have to take a potion with her breakfast that tasted like dung and seemed to deepen the shade of her hair every month? "You're a Black my dear, and you must look it."

Ginevra did concede that her father was not an attractive man. He was neither an endearing man, but he was a charming businessman and had never deprived Ginevra of anything she'd ever wanted. She wondered then why her mother, who Ginevra had assumed to be quite a desirable choice of bride in her day, would have selected Rodolphus to be her husband. She'd never asked, but merely assumed the devotion to her family and her ideals had made Bellatrix's choice for her.

* * *

The conversation had taken another dip, and at that point had split into a conversation about Quidditch (Blaise and Draco, and presumably Harry Potter and Cormac McLaggen if they'd deem to get over their Gryffindor snobbery long enough to talk to them), and the boys at Hogwarts. Ginevra found both subjects boring and exhausting, and had eventually left Melinda to talk to Slug about the rising cost of beetle's eyes and wings due to some famine in Egypt.

Though at Black family gatherings, Ginevra proved to be an apt flier and a fine athlete capable of creating, understanding, and administering excellent plays, Quidditch bored her. It wasn't a subject that came up very often in her time with Bellatrix, and by the time Bellatrix had gotten cabin fever and returned to whatever it was that she loved better, her two younger brothers had been too consumed to help her understand the allure of the subject.

Her Uncle Sirius sincerely thought that she ought to try for the house team, or so he said whenever he got to spend time with Bellatrix's children, which was rarely. He had even said as much to the Minister of Magic one year when he'd taken Draco, Ginevra, Altair, and Abraxas to the Quidditch World Cup. He told the Minister that Ginevra could give her brothers and cousin, who were fairly talented themselves, a real run for their Galleons if she cared.

Ginevra liked her Uncle Sirius. He was not often welcomed into the family for some of his actions before she'd been born, but over time, he'd been allowed back in. He took the children to every World Cup, and one of his friends had told him he would've been an excellent father given the chance. When Ginevra had relayed this story to her mother, she'd laughed cryptically and said, "If he'd been married, he would've had fatherhood forced upon him."

Of all the members of her family, Ginevra, with all the surgeries, most resembled her mother and her uncle. There was a joke about it within the family, but the Blacks were not the Parkinsons, and could find other people to reproduce with to maintain the lineage. Sirius's mother Walburga had said the Blacks were too irresistible.

* * *

Harry Potter rolled his eyes as his housemate Cormac dug himself another hole in his argument with the Slytherins over Quidditch. Cormac's theories were based on the press accounts of the latest World Cup, and of the passengers in the compartment, he'd been the only one not present at it.

Zabini and Malfoy snickered as Cormac went on, and for a second, Harry felt solidarity from them. Harry had actually gone with Malfoy to the Cup this year, for Malfoy was his godfather's nephew, and his parents had been working this year so he couldn't go without Sirius.

"How're your brothers?" He said suddenly to Ginevra Lestrange, who shook herself out of her stupor.

Ginevra shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. Abraxas is very jealous of my new broomstick, but he'll get his after his O.W.L's. He got a hawk owl when he received his prefect's badge. Altair is foolishly starting Divination this year; I told him a thousand times he's more suited to Arithmancy, like me."

"What broomstick did you get?" Harry asked, rather proud of his own, which was a Firebolt he'd received when he'd been made a Gryffindor prefect. His mother hadn't approved at all, and his father was thrilled that Sirius had given it to him, so he wouldn't be to blame.

"Oh, a Firebolt. Abra thinks it isn't fair, since I'm not that into Quidditch and I'm not even on the house team." She was an excellent mimic for the middle Lestrange's whiny voice.

"Why would you even want one?" Harry asked, noticing the height of Ginevra's cheekbones.

Ginevra frowned at him. "Why wouldn't I want one? It's the best broom in the world."

Malfoy let out a raucous chuckle. "That's a Black for you."

Ginevra flushed a little at the idea that she'd been caught talking to Potter. She remembered how infuriated her mother had been when she'd heard that Potter had accompanied them to the World Cup this year. Sirius had been called foolhardy and accused of disobeying the family's terms to his re-entry into it, but in the end, Sirius had said something to please Bellatrix, and when Altair asked if he were allowed to talk to Harry Potter in the future, their mother had taken a very high pitch and said, "Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

But Ginevra knew better. Draco's eyebrow was now quirked, and he'd nudged Blaise. Though Cormac had launched into yet another poor analysis of the plays administered at the Cup, the Slytherin boys were watching Harry Potter become one of the hundreds of Hogwarts boys to become infatuated with the very idea of Ginevra Lestrange.

* * *

They joked about it later at the Slytherin table, and Ginevra frowned.

"My mother always said that it was Aunt Bellatrix's evil plan to make Ginevra so desirable she'd have just about anyone in her wake." Draco sneered, and Ginevra rolled her eyes at him.

She sat on the other side of Prax Harper, a boy in her year, from Tracey Davis, who spoke up with a screeching and malicious tone. "Aw, Gin, embarrassed to be a mommy's girl?"

Ginevra smiled calmly at Tracey, brushing her hand over Prax Harper's knee beneath the table and succeeding in seconds at what Tracey had been attempting all evening in getting his attention. "At least my mother's name can be spoken at this table, Davis."

The Slytherins laughed obediently, and Millicent Bullstrode laughed a little too loudly, catching Ginevra's attention and a cool sideways look. "You of all people shouldn't be laughing, Millie, in case you thought we've all forgotten about your mother."

Blaise, who sat on her other side, squeezed her knee hard. "Be nice." He hissed.

Ginevra gave him an once-over. He was one of Ginevra's friends, and Head Boy to boot, but Ginevra's sharp tongue rarely spared anyone. In that way, one could say she was indiscriminate. "No girl in Slytherin ever got anywhere being nice, Zabini, and you would do well to remember the handicap of my sex."

* * *

It was stories like these that made Slug Club meetings difficult for Harry Potter. Everyone knew that despite her manners, charm, talents, and beauty, Ginevra Lestrange was a spoiled, mean person. And yet he really couldn't find anyone else at the meetings and parties he'd rather be talking to. A shy but smart Gryffindor girl in his year had enviously asked him to describe everything in great detail every time he returned from the potion master's fêtes, but Harry found them extremely boring. He got to meet interesting people, but most of them he'd already met before through his parents or their friends.

The most fascinating part of all the Slug Club business was getting to know Ginevra Lestrange. He shared his mother's fascination with the archaic world Ginevra was clearly poised to rule, and wondered if she were one of those purebloods that believed she was honestly better than anybody else. The rumors about her seemed to say as much, but Harry had learned from Sirius that just because someone was a pureblood did not mean that they felt more entitled to learn magic than the next person.

Maybe Ginevra only spoke to him at Slug Club events for lack of better person to speak to. Harry certainly wouldn't volunteer to be friends with a Slytherin out of anything other than necessity, and he wasn't confident they were friends at all. But the subject of Quidditch was always inevitable, and as fascinated with it as he was, he couldn't help but rescue the girl from boredom.

The morning of September 2nd, he watched her at the Slytherin table, straightening Altair's tie and solving one last Arithmancy problem for Abraxas. She almost managed to smile at him without smirking, before pinching his cheek teasingly before they left for their classes. Malfoy remarked on something and she stepped on his feet before prancing off to class, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

In addition to preparing for his N.E.W.Ts, Harry fully intended on getting to know the legendary Ginevra Lestrange. Little did he know that the girl was an endless enigma, and his quest would land them both in more trouble than they could handle.

* * *

Coming up in The Legendary Ginevra Lestrange:

Harry frowned. "Yes." He followed her into the dark, and they alternated states of illumination as they passed portraits. "Come on, we have duty."

"Oh, come on… haven't you ever wanted to be alone with me in the dark?" Ginevra teased, and suddenly, Harry felt the hem of the sleeve of his robe being gently tugged towards her.

"Of course, but we have duty." Harry whispered, and the distance between them closed. Harry felt the lithe curves of her body against his.


	2. Secret

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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**_Secret_**

* * *

It was in October that Harry discovered the first secret about Ginevra Lestrange, when Quidditch try-out frenzy was at a fever pitch, and Melinda had brought a _Teen Witch_ issue to a Slug Club gathering. Cormac and Slug were arguing with Blaise and Draco.

"What does your pet say about you?" Melinda read slowly, offering one of the many quizzes _Teen Witch_ was famous for.

"I've a boarhound." Ginevra offered plainly, looking up from the little paper Snitches she was making to fly around Draco's head. Harry watched as he batted at them and stifled a laugh.

Melinda laughed at Ginevra's choice. "Well, that means you've got too many brothers."

Ginevra snorted. "No, it means my mother thought giving me a boarhound would make me tougher."

She reached into her schoolbag for her little book of photographs. Harry peaked over the girls' shoulders to see several portraits of her family, some photos from the Quidditch world cup, and finally a large boarhound came into view, like the one that rested outside the groundskeeper's cottage. "His name is Tariq."

The boarhound's shiny coat glistened as he yawned and stretched and scratched. Ginevra's face lit up as her brothers flew on broomsticks through the shot.

"Horoscopes?" Melinda asked, and Ginevra shrugged. "Oooh, love matches."

Ginevra rolled her eyes and Harry pulled up closer to the girls, since he had a feeling they knew he was eavesdropping anyway.

"I'm a Leo." They chorused. Harry grinned at Ginevra, and she turned her attention to the thick horoscope guide in Melinda's lap.

Melinda shrugged her shoulders merrily. "Well, two owls with one stone." She flipped to the correct page. "Leos are indulgent in desserts, generous, bold, and very into the aesthetics. They need to be a top priority in the lives of their lovers, but they make that easy with their great stamina and sense of fun. For lust, they're best matched with Geminis, Cancers, and Sagittarians, but for love they're best matched with Geminis, Libras, and Sagittarians."

Ginevra smirked. "Did you hear that, Draco? Apparently you'll be a fulfilling shag and dad!"

Draco frowned in confusion. "What in the realm are you talking about?"

"Apparently Leos and Geminis are supposed to be together!" She shouted, rolling her eyes playfully.

Draco sneered back at her in a way that made Harry uncomfortable. Melinda was quickly engaged into a conversation with Cormac about the evidential proof of horoscopes in both the Muggle and magical realms, and with a prim dip of her wrist, Ginevra extracted the magazine from Melinda's lap to read on her own.

Harry noticed a stray sprinkling of freckles on the inside of her wrist, and stared at them curiously. All of the members of the Black family had creamy porcelain skin, with the exception of Draco, who was whiter than most of his family. Harry had never seen freckles on a Black before.

"Do you mind?" She questioned coolly, with pursed lips, a quirked brow, and a look of disgust on her face. Her robe fell back into place, covering the row of freckles.

"I didn't know you had freckles." Harry said as a reply, and Ginevra's short, dark nails on her elegant fingers brushed at the hem of her sleeve, gently pulling it back.

"Huh." She shrugged, and after a pause, her voice rose. "Sounds like another trip to the Tugwood ward."

Blaise barely raised his head from a game of chess he and Draco had started. "When will your mother ever give up on that, Gin?"

The Lestrange girl shrugged. "When another girl is born to play with. Estella Aurora."

"The Black family picks out names long before the child in question is actually born." Draco explained. "The next boy's to be Pollux Regelus."

"Professor Slughorn! Professor Slughorn!" Exclaimed Hermione Granger, the shy girl in Harry's year and house as she burst in, looking flustered and unkempt as usual.

"Granger's finally got an invite." Muttered Cormac under his breath. Blaise and Draco laughed.

"Professor, there's been an attack on Hogsmeade! All the prefects have been called to the Deputy Headmistress's office and all the professors are to lock down the castle immediately! Only Hogwarts students and faculty are being allowed on the property!" Hermione said in one breath.

The office went into a flurry immediately. Harry, Draco, Cormac, and Ginevra went in one direction, with Slughorn barking orders at Blaise to keep Melinda safe and escort her to her portrait hole.

* * *

"Do you think it was the Dark Lord?" Draco whispered to Ginevra, who remained stone-faced until they emerged into the Deputy Headmistress's office. Draco had tugged on her arm all the way there.

"We're not married yet; stop being such a nag." Ginevra snapped at Draco before they opened the door to find the other eight prefects, the Head Girl and Boy, and Professor McGonagall looking very grave.

"Seventh year prefects, you're to guard your portrait holes, do a head count." The professor distributed a glowing parchment to each pair. "The Head Girl and Boy will have a master list which will, upon your updates, keep a list of those still missing. Naturally, Veritaserum must be administered."

Harry noticed Ginevra's hand twitched, the one with freckles, and she pulled the hem of her sleeve down a little.

"Four pairs of prefects will be guarding the entrance into Hogwarts from Hogsmeade." McGonagall rattled off names, and Draco shot her a look when Ginevra wasn't named among them. "And the other four pairs will be guarding these locations… Potter and Lestrange, you're to guard the statue of the hump-backed witch on the third floor… Potter, that your father could have been here."

Draco's glare only deepened as each prefect and the Head Boy and Girl each placed a droplet of Veritaserum on their tongues and sent on their assignments. Ginevra's mouth grew tight after her eyes briefly rolled back into her head, and as soon as she and Harry were out of sight of the other prefects, she spat.

* * *

"If you don't mind, I'll let you fly this broom on your own." Ginevra said to him as soon as they'd turned the corner. "If I'm to understand this correctly, you know your way around this one."

"It's not like you to skive off such a thrilling assignment." Harry commented, with an eyebrow quirked. "I happen to know you usually love the late shifts, especially when the castle's under attack."

Ginevra simpered at him, walking backwards into the darkness. He could hear her heels clicking along the floor. "I'm sure you know quite a bit about me, don't you?"

Harry's tongue grew heavy, knowing he had to answer her question honestly. "Yes, I do. You know, you shouldn't be walking alone in a dark castle with the Lord Voldemort about."

The clicking suddenly stopped. "You're brave enough to say His name?"

Harry frowned. "Yes." He followed her into the dark, and they alternated states of illumination as they passed portraits. "Come on, we have duty."

"Oh, come on… haven't you ever wanted to be alone with me in the dark?" Ginevra teased, and suddenly, Harry felt the hem of the sleeve of his robe being gently tugged towards her.

"Of course, but we have duty." Harry whispered, and the distance between them closed. Harry felt the lithe curves of her body against his.

They were only a short distance from the hump-backed witch. Harry heard other footsteps, and he instantly jumped away and whipped out his wand.

Ginevra was suddenly more urgent in her quest to get Harry's complete attention. Gone were the smirks and languid movements, and with them went the haze Harry had been under. "Who's there?" He asked as his wand lit.

Ginevra's eyes grew wide, noticing there had not been an incantation. A shift of a statue was heard. The footsteps grew rapid and distant and Ginevra headed for them, but Harry, with eyes narrowed, grabbed at her twitching wrist. "Let's check the witch for an entry."

As they approached, Ginevra pulled a face. "It was obviously an exit, or we would have seen them."

"Well, any Hogwarts students will be accounted for." Harry frowned. "But we're probably not dealing with Hogwarts students, are we?"

Ginevra began to look nauseas. "Why is my tongue starting to feel heavy?"

"That's what happens when you're asked a question under Veritaserum." Harry answered simply.

With a slight speech impediment, she continued. "I know that… I've just… never… I thought I'd…" Clutching her stomach with her twitching hand, Ginevra blanched. "The intruder was thwarted."

"Is that who that was, an intruder?" Harry demanded suddenly.

"Yes." She clamped her quivering hand over her mouth, the other at her stomach, and she was doubled over. "I can't! I can't!"

"You can't what?" Harry's brow furrowed. He looked at the only occupied portrait, where a man who resembled Sirius only vaguely stood, watching the Slytherin sixth year writhe in pain. "Can you do something?"

"And what exactly would that be?" The wizard sniffed.

"I don't know; fetch the nurse, or anybody who can help!" Harry snapped, and the wizard looked miffed at the idea.

"I don't approve of Walburga bringing that trash into the family." He said in response, turning his back to Harry.

"Walburga?" Harry repeated, and the next moment, Ginevra fell to the floor.

"My mother… my great-aunt… I can't…" Ginevra choked out, and Harry scooped her off the floor.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He asked himself, and Ginevra turned to him, her tongue swelling.

"I don't know, but can you please stop asking questions?" Ginevra replied curtly.

Feeling his own tongue engorging, Harry nodded. "Now look, I can't have us abandon our post."

"Those freckles." She whispered, eyes closed and beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. "No, don't. No questions, either."

"So we're just going to have to sit it out until everything's accounted for, and I know that sounds awful right now, but we have to, because we can't risk having that intruder come back in." Harry said slowly, as though to a child.

"And what exactly are we supposed to do if one does come?" Ginevra retorted, and Harry noticed new bite marks beneath her lower lip. She seemed to have regained some control over her hand.

"Well, I don't know." Harry answered after a moment. McGonagall hadn't explained that far. Were they to duel with full-fledged Death Eaters? Voldemort even?

"That's the problem with you Gryffindors. You don't think things through." Ginevra's cool and infamous demeanor was returning at a rapid rate. "Though I'll give that slag Head of House of yours some credit; she wasn't dumb enough to appoint a single Mudblood to an important position in this day and age."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed. "And here I was under the impression you were just an indifferent brat in this whole thing!"

"Haven't done your research half as well as you thought, eh? Don't answer that; it was rhetorical. We all know that Hermione Granger is the smartest girl in your house in your year and she isn't prefect because McGonagall isn't dumb enough to appoint one." Ginevra snarled, and Harry dropped her unceremoniously on the floor. "Half-bloods are alright, especially ones like you who at least have blood-traitor purebloods for fathers."

"You sure know how to deflate a crush, don't you?" Harry asked, the question in his voice taunting her.

"Maybe." She responded, not even attempting to fight the Veritaserum. "Maybe I'm just being challenging. Morgana knows St. Potter loves a challenge."

"You know what I just remembered? Some advice my blood-traitor pureblood father gave me once, when I'm in contact with someone under Veritaserum. Ask them as many questions as possible. Try not to let them ask you any questions. If they have something to hide, it'll be obvious." Harry whispered, and the violent twitch in Ginevra's wrist began again. "Why does your hand keep twitching?"

Ginevra glared at him. "The freckles on my wrist were left there by my mother."

"A lovely but Veritaserum-approved response." Harry chuckled. "And why was that?"

"She said any imperfection on my body would make its purpose known." Ginevra smirked. "I'm glad you're at last onto my game, Harry. You seem fun. Draco never puts up a fight, he only asks me dirty questions."

Harry grinned back at her. "What purpose is that?

Once again, rapid footsteps headed towards them, and Harry and Ginevra's heads snapped up. It was Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy. "All students and faculty have been recovered."

"To alert me." Ginevra said, and Goldstein looked at her quizzically. Harry frowned. He knew he couldn't question Ginevra any longer in front of Goldstein.

"We're to return to our houses." Goldstein continued, and Ginevra smiled warmly at him.

"What happened?" She asked with a far too innocent look for her features. "Was it You-Know-Who?"

"Dumbledore didn't say much." Goldstein began slowly. "But it seemed to be Death Eaters trying to breach the castle." His eyes fell on Ginevra's hands, which gave one last twitch. He shrugged it off, returning his eyes instead to Ginevra's inviting smile. "Do you need an escort back to your house, Lestrange?"

"I'd love one." Ginevra took Goldstein's arm. "See you later, Potter."

Harry watched the pair walk off into the distance, his lit wand lighting the subtle but steady gravitation of Ginevra's side towards Goldstein's, and he shook his head. If Draco were still waiting up for her, as Harry suspected he was, Goldstein would get his punishment for being a gentleman. In the meantime, Harry knew that the freckles on Ginevra Lestrange's wrist had the power to alert her, and whatever alert she was receiving tonight, it was obviously very urgent.

Now he had to get to the bottom of her comment on her impending marriage to her own cousin.

* * *

Coming up in The Legendary Ginevra Lestrange:

"How can you say that? It's unnatural to marry your cousin! The idea is unfathomable!" Harry exclaimed, and Ginevra frowned in confusion.

"And how can you stand there, all high and mighty, asking me to explain something that I've always accepted as a part of reality!" She retorted. "I shouldn't even be speaking to you." Ginevra brushed past him, stepping on his feet as seemed to be her trademark, her blood-red curls sweeping under his chin.


End file.
